“Troop movement,” the systems operator replied, his field terminal linked to the sensor download
of a circling Mariner drone. “A ground column. 4X4s and light armored fighting vehicles – a heavily reinforced company, maybe a rump battalion. They’re making their turn in toward the central city, advancing down Jalan Agung
Boulevard.”
“Do you have any unit IDs?”
“From that garrison site, they’d be elements of the 137th Polici Special Security Battalion and the 17th motorized brigade. These guys are moving fast.”
“Do you know these people?” Goodyard inquired.
“They aren’t part of the regular city garrison force,” Christine murmured, almost to herself. “They’re outfits brought in as reinforcements during the civil unrest. It would be a
natural move to reinforce palace security at a time like this. Drone control,
keep that column covered. Communications, have we had any traffic between the
Palace complex security office and the Suntir garrison site?”
“No, Ma’am. Nothing showing on the logs – but we do have pertinent traffic on the Jakarta police net. One of their
tactical commanders is asking his headquarters who the hell these guys are?”
Christine frowned. “I’d call that a big uh-oh. Communications, ring up the Palace Complex security
commander. Discreetly ask if he knows anything about an inbound armored column.”
The Bahasa-speaking Green Beret manning the communications desk lifted a phone to his ear and hit a predial button, then a second, then a third.
“Commander, the Palace complex phone lines have gone dead.” The Beret took another moment to consult his tactical display. “All telecommunications in the capital district have just crashed, land line and
cellular.”
“A milspec cascade jammer has just come on-line somewhere close by,” the signal Intelligence guard announced excitedly. “A big one. Standard radio is down! ”
“Let’s escalate that to an ah shit! This is it. They’re isolating the Palace and the Ministries.” Christine turned to Ambassador Goodyard. “Sir, I suggest you get through to Washington on the satellite link and advise
them that the government of President Kediri is falling. Fa’sure we got us a coup!”
*
The military coup was an art form in Indonesia. Unlike the United States Military, where it is hammered into the heads of the officer cadre that they must remain answerable to the civilian government and that they must not dirty their hands with politics, the Indonesian military considered it an aspect of their duty to set the civil government to rights if needs be.
Unfortunately, the exact definition of “to rights” is somewhat open-ended.
When their radios were jammed, the Jakarta police detachments sensed what was happening – and weary, sweating men mentally flipped a five-rupiah piece, deciding which side of the line they would come down on.
*
The weight of Christine’s Interceptor vest dug into her shoulders and perspiration prickled down her
spine. “Get that parabolic mike set up,” she commanded, “and the long-range video rig. I want to see and hear what’s going on over there.”
The Intelligence detail wasn’t alone on the compound wall. The Embassy had gone to full alert, with all perimeter gates closed and both the FAST platoon and its own security detail at their battle stations, their helmeted and MOLLE harnessed forms spaced along the security gangway, their weapons resting on the concrete parapet.
Christine considered donning her own K-pot helmet and decided she wasn’t quite that scared yet. “Okay Owens,” she called into her lip mike, “what’s the latest?”
“The armored column is about a mile out, ma’am, coming on fast.”
“What about Kediri’s evacuation helo? Is it inbound?”
“It hasn’t launched, ma’am. There’s no activity around the presidential hangars at all.”
The Intel grimaced. “Great! The fix is in there too. Have you advised the Shenandoah?”
“Affirmative. We’re giving them a real time feed on all events. Captain Garrett advises that she’s moving to support us with all possible speed.”
“Have you been able to get through to the palace or to the Ministry of Defense?”
“No ma’am. All local commo is still down. We could send a courier across the square?”
Christine rejected the idea. “Negative. We’re way out of time for that.”
“What’s the latest, Commander?”
Christine looked up to find Ambassador Goodyard standing on the security walkway beside her. He’d shed his suit coat in favor of a flak vest and his tie had been yanked down impatiently.
“Ambassador, you shouldn’t be up here just now.”
“Damn it! Don’t start that with me, Commander. This is my embassy and I intend to see what’s happening to it.”
Christine was in no position to argue. “It’s your call, sir.”
He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Thank you, commander. Now what’s the situation?’
“Things could start to get noisy in a few minutes, sir. If they do, duck!”
“Activity at the Jalan Perwire street check point!” a sentry at the corner outpost yelled.
Christine and the Ambassador swung their field glasses onto the north-eastern corner of the square. The lead vehicles of the mobile column, a Cadillac Gage Ranger armored command car and a scorpion light tank, had arrived at the police roadblock. An argument could be seen going on between the checkpoint commander and the occupants of the Ranger.
The confrontation didn’t last long. The men manning the barricade didn’t have a tank backing them up. Soon, troops from the column could be seen disarming the police.
The barricade was drawn back and the column rolled through into the square. The
duty officer’s voice spoke in Christine’s headset. “The armored column is dispersing. Elements are maneuvering on the side streets
to surround the palace complex.”
“Very well, maintain your surveillance.”
A dozen vehicles had drawn up across the front wall of the palace grounds, blocking the main gates. Ground troops dismounted and fanned out. The sound of a voice distorted by a loudspeaker could be heard echoing across the square.
